During the press campaign for Fun House we were booked to shoot a day of press pictures, but the stylist from one of the magazines arrived with the worst selection of clothes we'd ever seen. Nothing fit or looked right, and the mood in the studio was turning dark as we both felt trapped by the ugliness on clothes rack, so I grabbed Pink, and we ran outside to try and figure out what we were going to do.
As we were talking on the sleepy street outside the studio a crazy drag queen suddenly rounded the corner and came stumbling towards us in an obviously inebriated state. She was barely able to stay upright on her seven inch stilettos, and both of us were transfixed by her precarious progress. As she stumbled closer she ...


